


Sic 'Em, Boys

by wrenseroticlibrary_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bestiality, Blood, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fear, Hurt Dean Winchester, Other, Porn, fear kink, murderfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenseroticlibrary_archivist/pseuds/wrenseroticlibrary_archivist
Summary: Prompt: The hellhounds are here for Dean, and it’s not just to kill him.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Hellhound(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 54





	Sic 'Em, Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Wren's tags: bestiality, death, violence, dean winchester, sam winchester, supernatural, hellhounds, noncon, fear.
> 
> Wren's warnings: I want you all to stop for a moment. I want you to read the prompt again, and decide if this is really something you want to see. Really. Think about it. This story contains violence, death, rape, and diabolic invisible bestiality. Did you read that last sentence? Go read it again.
> 
> Archivist's warnings: There's tension between the brothers, who are both trying to protect each other, and references to nausea. Also, Dean is literally raped to death by a giant monster dog.

It was over once the clock struck midnight. But they ran all the same.

When they got to the first room they could find they slammed the doors shut—as if that would do _anything_ , as if painted planks of wood meant more than tissue paper to those breathing masses of muscle and hatred that were barking just outside—and Sam braced his back against the doors to hold them shut while Dean pulled out the sack of please-god-let-it-be-hellhound-repelling dust and poured it in a shaky line. The barking got louder and Sam screamed at him to hurry. Dean had almost finished the line when there was an impact against the door like a linebacker just bodyslammed it. The doors flew open with a cloud of splinters, sending Sam sprawling onto the floor. The line of dust was broken, and Dean scrambled back because he could _see_ what was crossing over into the room.

Then Sam was by his side, pulling him to his feet, holding him close and dragging him farther into the room _as if there was somewhere to run to._ Sam’s gaze was darting around the room but there was nothing for him to see, he wasn’t frenching the veil between life and death the way Dean was.

“Dean,” Sam panted, “how many?”

 _Doesn’t matter, one is more than we can take._ Dean swallowed. He couldn’t tell. The hellhounds flickered in and out of his vision like ghosts. Sometimes he could see them, drooling and steaming, but sometimes only the clicking of their claws and that awful growling betrayed their presence. Dean’s knees felt like they were made of water.

“I—I don’t know—maybe three or four—”

“In here? In the room right now?”

“Yeah—”

“Fuck...”

A black shape flickered into visibility and lunged towards them. Dean yanked Sam out of the way, staggering back from the monster. There was a clacking of claws just behind him and three hot stripes of pain burned down his leg and he almost buckled.

“Dean!” Sam was holding him up. “Dean, hang on—”

There were teeth around his arm, he couldn’t see them but he could feel them, needle sharp and burning like poison and yanking at his flesh, and he could hear _ripping_. He was torn away from Sam, he could hear Sam shouting his name as the hellhound gave a rough yank and toppled him to the floor. There was barking in his ears, ringing like alarm bells so loud it was deafening. Dean managed to sit up and he could see Sam cornered against the wall with two hellhounds growling at him. He thought it was two, anyway, they kept flickering. Sam couldn’t see them but he could clearly tell they were there. There were four deep lacerations across Sam’s arm, but he was still breathing, and the hellhounds weren’t moving to attack him.

But then, of course they weren’t. They were here for Dean.

Dean felt a hot growl against the back of his neck and his heart almost jumped into his throat. He tried to scramble away and heavy paws slammed onto his back and pinned him face first onto the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam trying to stand up to help him, only to be knocked back by a rough blow from a hellhound’s claws.

“Sam, don’t!” He wanted to finish the sentence, wanted to tell Sam to stay put because the hellhounds would only hurt him if he got in the way, but Dean didn’t think he could force out the words when every fiber of his being was begging for Sam to come and save him.

Sharp, hot, jagged pain raced down his back, and Dean screamed into the floor. He tried to wrench away from the weight pinning him down, tried to buck the hellhound off his back, but the weight of it was crushing and wouldn’t move. He felt teeth sink into his shoulder and the searing burn of it made his struggles falter as he gasped for air. He could hear Sam calling his name desperately, and there was a loud bark as the hounds knocked him away again. The teeth pulled out of Dean’s shoulder and a hot, sloppy tongue ran over the wounds and up his neck. Dean squirmed and managed to twist away from the monster, kicking at its paws as he pulled himself across the floor. He twisted around to face it, trying to pull himself to his feet. Blood was pouring down his back, he could feel it trickling over his skin, it almost tickled.

The hound was visible for a few seconds, long enough for him to see his own blood staining its teeth. It let out a low, hungry growl and plodded closer to him before flickering away, leaving nothing but hot dogbreath on Dean’s chest and claws scraping over the wood floor. Dean tried to scramble back and was stopped with a scream when the hound’s paw raked down his leg, ripping through denim and skin and muscle. He heard his belt snap as the claws dragged across him again, from stomach to thigh. He tried to twist away and felt the hellhound’s teeth grabbing his shirt, shaking violently until the fabric ripped open. Something hot and wet ran over his bare chest and up to his neck, and Dean’s fist connected with something solid. The hellhound was only discouraged for a moment, and then he could see its yellow eyes burning into him, black teeth bared. It grabbed his ruined belt in its jaws and tried to yank him forward. Dean kicked at it frantically. He could hear the other hounds barking and it sounded like laughter.

There was a thump and a curse. Sam must have tried to get past the hellhounds again. Dean heard his brother calling for him as he struggled. His bloody, tattered pants had been pulled down to his thighs, and it might have seemed like a good idea to just wriggle out of them if he hadn’t been so afraid of them getting caught on his shoes, effectively cuffing his feet together. The hellhound sunk its claws into his legs, letting his pants fall from its mouth for a moment. Dean tried to scoot away and his heart almost fucking stopped when he felt that wet, leathery tongue scrape over the wounds on his thigh and run straight up over his dick. His stomach tightened and Dean pressed a hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up. The hound yanked him closer but Dean’s stomach was churning so much he couldn’t even fight it. Harsh yellow eyes glared at him for a second and then the hound was invisible again, just a painful force pinning him down, dribbling drool onto his chest.

Dean swallowed his nausea and pulled his leg up to his chest before kicking up at the hound’s stomach, hard as he could. There was a yelp and the weight lifted just long enough for him to scramble away across the wooden floor, slick with his blood. Dean managed to stagger to his feet, almost collapsing again when he tried to put weight on his ripped legs. His wounds felt like someone was grinding hot coals into them. Dean grabbed a table for support, gasping hard, trying to figure out where he had dropped the bag of hellhound dust—

Something he couldn’t even see slammed into his back, knocking him forward onto the floor. Dean didn’t have time to scream before claws were in his back again, sinking deep into the muscle like hooks and holding him there. There was hot breath all over his neck, it smelled like coffins and dog and gasoline. Dean started to squirm again and stopped with a gasp as he felt something _hot and smooth and slick_ brush against his bare leg, leaving a smear of slime. He could feel a wet nose pressing against the back of his neck, feel the smoothness of teeth being bared. Dean tried to pull himself away and a whimper of fear slipped out of him as that _thing_ rubbed against his leg again. Some part of him _knew_ what it was, but the gears of his mind were clogged with adrenaline and denial. Dean reached a hand forward, desperate for something to grab onto that he could use to pull himself away, and a few feet away he saw the bag of dust under the table.

“Sam!” he yelled. “Table, hound dust—i-it’s right there!”

He saw Sam’s head snap to the table, saw his brother try to pull himself to his feet only to have a hellhound grab his arm in its teeth and yank him back down to the floor. Sam yanked his arm away, shaking.

“Hang on, Dean, just hang on, I’m gonna get it!”

The hellhound’s tongue ran over Dean’s neck again, leaving it wet and sticky. He cringed and tried to pull away, then froze with a choked noise as he felt powerful jaws grabbing his neck. Dean held still, shaking, not daring to move, expecting the jaws to snap shut at any second and crunch his neck bones to a paste, or just squeeze until blood could no longer reach his brain. The hound let out a low growl that reverberated all the way down Dean’s spine, and something hot and slimy rubbed up against the inside of his thigh. Dean’s conscious mind finally registered what it was and he tried to lurch away frantically, not even caring about the claws buried in his back. The hound growled and invisible teeth tightened around his neck until Dean fell still with a terrified sob. The hot slick _thing_ brushed up his leg and settled against his ass, oozing something thick and viscous. It was long and thick and bulbous and Dean pressed his legs together as hard as he could, body shaking with sobs.

The weight on his back intensified and he felt claws slicing their way slowly down his calf. Dean bit his lip until he drew blood and finally screamed into the floor. That thing was still rubbing against his ass, hot and slick and pressing into the crack, _just say it, Dean, it’s a dick, it’s a fucking hellhound dick and you’re on the menu._

The hound growled against him again and Dean bit his bloody lip on another scream as the monster’s cock humped against him, pushing into the crack and rubbing hot and hard against his hole. Dean buried his face in the floor and tried not to cry and prayed that Sam couldn’t tell what was happening. When he felt something gooey ooze over his hole followed by a firm pressure, he bit his hand to keep from crying out or begging, as if begging would do him _any_ good.

“Dean?” He could hear Sam breathing hard. Sam must have noticed that Dean wasn’t being ripped up anymore. “Dean, wh-what’s happening? Is it still there?”

Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam something, anything other than the truth, but before he could make a sound something fleshy and tapered _pushed_ inside him and his words turned into a choked, horrified gasp. It was _hot_ , not hot like a poker but hot like asphalt in June, smoldering feverishly inside him. The shaft thickened as it slid into him, it _hurt_ and Dean screamed as it forced its way into his body. The hound growled and pushed in deeper and Dean wriggled under it, trying helplessly to squirm away as his hole was stretched around its cock.

“Dean!” He could hear the panic in Sam’s voice. “What’s it doing? _Dean_!”

Dean couldn’t answer, his stomach was lurching and he could barely breathe he felt so sick. The hound was pumping in and out of him in languid thrusts, as if it had all day. A copious amount of something thick and slimy was lubricating the way, and Dean didn’t want to think about what it was. The hellhound’s claws tightened in his back, sinking deeper, and Dean twisted in pain, sobbing when the action made him tighten up around the awful thing inside him.

“D... Dean...?”

Sam’s voice sounded choked and broken. Dean didn’t want to meet Sam’s eyes but he glanced up by reflex. One look was enough to confirm that Sam had figured out what was going on, his face was pale and he was shaking and he looked like he was about to either start crying or be sick. Dean looked away again quickly, choking down a sob as he was thrust into. The hellhound was pushing deeper with each shove, forcing him open. Dean felt something smooth and hot and round press against his ass, thicker than the rest of the shaft. The hellhound kept pounding him harder and deeper until the knot was bumping up against his hole with each thrust.

Dean felt like he was being split in half. The hellhound was so deep inside him that it must be pushing into his guts, he felt like he was being violated to his core. He could feel the hellhound’s cock squirt something occasionally, hot and gooey, and if he thought too hard about what it was he might go insane. A slimy tongue ran up the side of his face and Dean cringed away with a fearful whine.

The hellhound was panting against his neck, its breath steamy and reeking of death. Dean could feel its tongue lolling against him. The thrusts were coming so hard and fast now, and Dean’s throat was sore from screaming. It stopped suddenly, buried so deep in him that the knot was starting to stretch out his hole, and Dean could feel something gushing inside him, flooding him, hot and sticky and horrible. His body was shaking with sobs by the time it stopped, and when the hellhound pulled out of him he felt a hot liquid spill out and dribble down his legs to form a puddle on the floor.

The hellhound’s claws pulled out of his back, followed by gushes of blood. Dean just lay still as the hound stepped off of him, hoping fervently that it was over now. He thought he could hear clicking claws coming from another direction, thought another hellhound was walking up to him, he could hear the low, eager panting—

There was a yelp of pain and then a hand grabbed his arm, a human hand, wrenching him to his feet. _Sam._ Dean screamed again and collapsed against his brother as his shaky legs tried to support him. Thick, slimy liquid was pouring down the insides of his legs, burning like acid in his wounds. There was a frothy black puddle forming between his shaking legs where it was dripping out of him.

“Dean, come on, just stay on your feet—”

Sam was dragging him away from the hellhounds, retreating until they were backed into the corner of the room. Sam set him down against the wall and Dean sobbed in relief as the stress was taken off his legs. His head was pounding, it almost hurt worse than his wounds. There was a dry, sandy sound, and Dean realized Sam was pouring the last of the dust in a ring around them, sealing them off in their corner. Dean could hear the hellhounds barking furiously, and he curled up into a ball with a whine, holding his hands over his ears.

“Dean—” Sam’s arms were around him, holding him close as if that would keep him safe. “Dean, hang on, just—oh, fuck...”

Dean sucked in a ragged breath. The whole front of Sam’s shirt was stained with his blood. He could see it puddling across the floor too, mixing with something black that smelled like coffins and dog and gasoline—

“Dean, oh god—hang on, Dean, just hang in there—”

Sam’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him close and squeezing him tight. He could feel Sam breathing hard against him, a hand rubbing his shoulder and squeezing it desperately. Dean let himself lean on Sam, burying his face in Sam’s chest, desperately trying to immerse himself in something good. It wasn’t working, all he could see and smell and feel was hellhound.

“Dean, come on, you gotta stay with me...”

A puddle of his blood touched the dust and started soaking into it. Dean’s head hurt. It hurt so much.

“Dean...”

Barking, ringing in his head like knives. He couldn’t see straight.

Sam said something. Dean didn’t hear it.

For a few seconds the pain started to dull.

Then all he could see was chains.

**Author's Note:**

> Archived from https://wrenseroticlibrary.tumblr.com/post/48488893026/sic-em-boys.
> 
> Details of formatting (italics on non-letter characters, length of dashes, treatment of multiple consecutive spaces, direction of angled quotes, etc) may have been changed, and obvious typos may have been corrected. The sequence of words has not been altered.
> 
> This is not my original work; it is Wren's. However, Wren has given permission for anyone to rearchive their works as long as the story and warnings are not modified.


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